


the Eagle, the Griffon, the Snake

by ProwlingThunder



Series: Contritum Coronam [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, Ghosts, M/M, Past Relationships, Soul-shapes, Soulmates, Time moves differently for the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22302334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/ProwlingThunder
Summary: So many visitors, this day, Gilgamesh thinks.Is it the same day?
Relationships: Ardyn Izunia & Original Male Character, Gilgamesh (Final Fantasy XV) & Ardyn Izunia, Gilgamesh (Final Fantasy XV)/Ardyn Izunia
Series: Contritum Coronam [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605325
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	the Eagle, the Griffon, the Snake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Omnibard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnibard/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Nate Brings Gilgamesh A Present](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985385) by [Omnibard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnibard/pseuds/Omnibard). 



> Nat'ian belongs to @Omnibard and should not be used without her permission.

So many visitors, this day, Gilgamesh thinks.

Is it the same day? Time passes strangely for the dead. He kept track, once, by how many people came for the them, how many of Somnus' people he had slain here. He kept track, after, by the way the legend changed of the ritual grounds. But now things change in an unpredictable way.

Still. So many visitors. First the youth, a young man full of fire and spirit, with a blade longer than he was tall. Gilgamesh had had to send him away, the heart of a lion, fierce as any flame of Ifrit; he would have liked to give the man all he could, but the Chosen King had not yet come, and he... Gilgamesh's burden was his own to carry, his and the Shield, and the lion was not the right one. He did not doubt he would have carried it without buckling. It was Gilgamesh alone who refused.

Then, led by the lion, an eagle: no. Not an eagle at all, Gilgamesh knew, as he read the man's heart, saw it's shape turn in kaleidoscopic shards. The eagle was on his flesh, painted into his skin, but it was not the shape of his soul. His was the bulette, hard flesh and shell and scale and spike, ancient guardians for lost shrines, lost temples, lost kings. Unwilling to submit, as the lion had been, but older and harder with more to lose. The Chosen King has come. Gilgamesh throws the match-- the eagle is ancient, but it is the  _ beginning, _ and the beginning has no place at the end. He sends the bulette away with the lion's blade and retreats to wait for dusk with the rest of his people.

Someone comes before it arrives. Gilgamesh hears of them before he sees them, can hear the spirits talk as they make their way through the caverns, and he runs a finger over the edge of his blade and misses the bite of it, the sight of blood. He had thought, when the Chosen King arrived, when the Shield came, that this would be over. It seems that is not to be so.

Yet, when his challenger steps onto the bridge, there are two: a griffon, all feathers and fur and scale and toothed beak, warm as Ifrit's fire, and the other, slick and smooth as silk, the pale red midgardsormr, golden eyes wide and stunned.

Gilgamesh stared at him, younger now than he remembered he had been, and felt something twist in his heart. The organ was gone, but the soul lingered; and it was the soul which matched, taught as a bowstring, drawn to sing.

The Chosen King. Though there was no bulette next to him, at his side-- which begs the question of which king runs with the Shield, but that is not a question for now. Now, a griffon walks at the side of the serpent, as Gilgamesh's long lost king steps forward, fearless and unconcerned as he drew up to him, reached up with both hands to run fingers over the mask he wore.

"Gilgamesh. You  _ are _ real." The words are  _ ancient, _ and it has been so many days since he has heard them that for a moment he forgets to speak them. Which is just as well, because his king is still here, still speaking, and he seems to be on the verge of breaking down. "You are real, and  _ still _ here. I knew you would not cast me aside."

Something is wrong. This is not the king he had taken from him, that he saw slain. And yet, inexplicably, it  _ is. _ His soul would know its match anywhere. He does not doubt it. And yet... something is very wrong.

His king is young yet, almost painfully so for the years that have long fought him, and Gilgamesh draws him close and wraps him in an embrace that is nothing but reassuring. He is not surprised when it is that which breaks the youth, but he lets it happen; there will be time, after, for devising what has gone wrong. It is not yet night. And there is another, still, who deserves Gilgamesh's attention.

"I have chosen the Shield of the Chosen King. You are too late for my strength."

The griffon grinned, a brilliant, tooth-filled smile. It was disorienting, between him and his king. His words, when he speaks, too are ancient. "Nah, I've got plenty of my own. I thought he could use yours, though."

"Yes," Gilgamesh agreed, as Ardyn clung to him, fingers digging into cloth and plates of armor. "My strength has always been his." He paused, then drew back a step.

"Gil--"

Beyond the ring of swords and daggers that made up the barrier on the far side was another cavern. Gilgamesh had waited there for days. Since he had died, he had not had to worry about the barricade. Now he considered the best way to take his king beyond it. "Come. We must talk of this. This is not the way it should be."

For a moment, the griffon did not seem as though he would follow. Then Ardyn released him from his coils, and stepped away, and drew the man forward by the arm. Tracks of shed tears still remained, but he seemed determined, for the moment, to smile despite them. "Come on, Nat'ian, come meet Gilgamesh the right way. He's the  _ best _ cook."

Was he, Gilgamesh wondered. Was he  _ still? _ It had... been a long time, since he had anyone in these caverns who needed such things. His people diffused into those of his king's, the ritual chambers forgotten as all but this. He did not know if he could manage. He was no simple spirit, however, and for his king and the griffon by his side, he would try.

**Author's Note:**

> *part of an AU of ambulo too.


End file.
